


Life Lessens

by Klavier



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Magical Realism, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22109866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klavier/pseuds/Klavier
Summary: Kyungsoo feels himself blush. He freezes with the pen held aloft. "Everything is relevant to magic.""Even my relationship status?" Chanyeol blinks."Especially that."
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 21
Kudos: 159





	Life Lessens

**Author's Note:**

> Written for round 2 of the Little Prince Fic Fest, prompt DKS-19-047. Thank you mods for working through difficult circumstances and best wishes always! Prompter, I hope you enjoy. It was struggle but ultimately I had fun building this little world. Come talk on my extremely inactive twitter @klavvrites!

On a clear, crisp winter morning, Park Chanyeol arrives at the Dean's office dressed in happiness. The summons don't worry him. Surely this meeting is concerning his recent submission to the university's scientific journal—his research on the pedagogy of pyromagic is unparalleled. Surely he's about to be congratulated on publication.

Chanyeol sits in a brown leather chair, adjusts the six silver rings on his fingers, and prepares to humbly accept whatever comes his way. What a wonderful Tuesday morning. He smiles at the Dean's wrinkly face and wrinkled blue suit. The man was an incredible Auditory magician back in the day, but he was getting a bit old. Chanyeol distracts himself by imagining the Dean younger... stronger... in eyeliner. Better.

Then the Dean says, "I'm sorry Chanyeol, you will not be receiving your diploma next semester."

Chanyeol laughs. Then stops. "Sir, I have a 4.3 GPA?"

"Unfortunately we cannot issue diplomas without a discipline." The Dean shrugs. "Your aptitude tests have never come back conclusive. You're not technically a Fire magician."

Something like an indignant squeak erupts from Chanyeol's mouth. The world tilts on its axis and he leans forward as if to catch his balance or argue—but he can't. The Dean is right. He has no discipline, just a weak penchant for fire, and no other magic has ever listened to him. But—but—he's never heard of such an archaic rule. Lots of people struggle with the execution of magic. Chanyeol more than makes up for it by excelling in academia.

"The theory, though—I've studied—"

"You are an exemplary student," says the Dean, laying a placating hand on the desk between them. "Which is why I've arranged a last-minute tutor. An equally talented student in the School of Elementals. Here is his contact information and an updated class schedule for you."

Chanyeol accepts the paper with numb hands. "We meet every day?"

"Every evening until you discover your discipline." The Dean raises one eyebrow. "Or you will not be graduating next semester."

His lower lip wobbles. Chanyeol promises to work harder, as if the past three years have been a piece of cake, and excuses himself.

He remembers the first time he discovered he was a magician. It was grade seven biology, a truly unfortunate time in anyone's life, and he was sitting in a plastic chair while his childhood best friend Yixing cut strips of paper for a litmus test.

Across the room, a blonde girl accidentally sat on her X-acto knife and sliced open her thigh. Somehow she'd nicked an artery. Blood gushed over the linoleum. The screaming was awful. He remembers warmth stirring in his gut, like he just drank a mug of spiced hot chocolate, and how he felt compelled to stand and say, "Stop bleeding." That's all it took. His voice alone. The intent was a glowing, physical thing, carried through the room to seal her wound like it never happened at all. His biology teacher had gone very pale and sent everyone to the nurse's office, but Chanyeol was a hero for weeks afterwards.

He never did anything like it again. Fire became his primary magical manifestation, and only weak fire at that, but Chanyeol never cared too much about his discipline. He doesn't need power. Chanyeol is a magician, that's what matters.

A strong, cold breeze knocks into him as the glass doors slam. He breathes deep. This isn't the end of his career. No. He will get the degree. He will find his discipline. He will— Beg the tutor for help. According to the paper clutched in his fist, they have their first session after dinner tonight in classroom 6-AB. Chanyeol doesn't have many friends at school, so he's not surprised the name is unfamiliar. Someone named Do Kyungsoo.

"Do Kyungsoo, get the hell down before I deliberately give you nightmares."

Kyungsoo opens his eyes unsurprised to see Baekhyun in a cashmere sweater frowning in the center of the student union. At least, he's probably frowning. It's hard to read facial expressions upside down.

Kyungsoo swings himself down from the top of the third-story windowsill. He likes to stretch his legs up there—but only at night, when the janitors are dissecting the common areas and the overachievers have gone home. Only when he has free reign of the campus.

Tonight, apparently, is not one of those nights. Baekhyun has shattered his illusion of privacy.

"Awh, I'm so scared." Kyungsoo takes a seat at one of the dozens of empty wooden tables. The fluorescent lights flicker twice. A dusty smell rises from the stained carpet. "Don't make me dream of spiders and clowns again, Dreamwalker. However will I survive."

Plopping into the opposite chair, Baekhyun sighs. He passes over a cup of coffee with _Kyungsoo <3_ penciled on the side. "Oh no, I know better now," he says, rolling his eyes. "I'll set your nightmares in a sensory deprivation tank. For hours."

"Fuck off."

"No. I brought you coffee to commiserate." Baekhyun pushes back his silver hair. He looks tired—moreso than usual for a chronic insomniac. "Minseok says hi, obviously." He gestures to the handwritten dedication. "He told me about your extra class. That fucking blows, why didn't you say anything?"

Kyungsoo adjusts his glasses and sips the coffee. Black, soulless, and utterly satisfying. Minseok is wrong about his schedule, but never his coffee."I'm not taking an extra class."

Baekhyun blinks. His eyes get squinty, like he's trying to figure out if Kyungsoo is lying. "Are you sure."

"Yeah."

"Have you checked your email recently?"

"Of course not." Kyungsoo drums his fingers on the table. His ring finger almost lands in a pile of muffin crumbs. "We're second-semester seniors. Why would we ever check our emails?"

Needless to say, there is an unread email from the Dean himself buried several days into Kyungsoo's inbox. It is succinct and non-negotiable. He will be tutoring a fellow senior every weekday in exchange for 3 elective credits—which he doesn't need—and a guaranteed admission to the Graduate School of Elementals—which he isn't interested in. Fuck the Dean.

He drops his head into his hands. "I'm being punished for my success."

"Oh, the woes of being valedictorian and a magical prodigy."

"Fuck. Off."

Smug, Baekhyun reaches across the table to spin around Kyungsoo's phone and reread the email. His smile fades. "You're supposed to start tonight. Like. In two minutes."

"Yeah right."

This can't get any worse. Kyungsoo snatches the phone back to verify—and shit, Baekhyun's right. He's got nebulous plans of stargazing on the roof of the library tonight, he doesn't have time for another class. Goddamn does he hate fame. Kyungsoo shoves the phone into his back pocket and stands.

There must be a certain off-kilter look in his eyes, because Baekhyun stands too, and grins. "Don't make the guy cry."

"No promises."

He crosses the room to stand at the far balcony. If he tilts his head a certain angle, he can see up the side of the building, where rows of dark windows lead to the 6th floor. Suddenly a thought occurs— "Wait, how did Minseok know about the class?"

Baekhyun shoulders his backpack and takes a sip of coffee. "Said he heard it from some guy crying in Coffee Break. His thoughts were louder than the espresso machine."

Great. An emotional senior with no discipline. There's a reason Kyungsoo avoids most of his peers. This guy—Park something—will probably fawn over Kyungsoo like everybody does when they discover he's an Earth magician. Four months from graduation and this is what he gets?

Sighing, Kyungsoo blows his fringe out of his face and steps onto the balcony. "Thanks for the heads up. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

Baekhyun salutes. "Good luck."

Without further ado or fanfare, Kyungsoo lifts a stone from the balcony beneath his feet and balances himself on top. He levitates up, slowly at first and then faster, until he hovers above the sixth floor balcony. The smell of pine and smoke reaches him from the forest below. Carefully he disembarks. Had anyone been watching, they might've swooned.

Since the sixth floor of the student union is exclusively made of classrooms, the balcony door is already locked for the evening. Kyungsoo picks the lock, jiggles the knob, and slides inside. It gives him a little thrill. God, does he love breaking rules. The metal door to room 6-AB is already ajar.

"Sorry I'm late," Kyungsoo calls, though he isn't sorry at all, and strides in.

There's a tall guy sitting cross-legged on the professor's desk. His jeans are black, his sweater is black, his boots and their sparkly laces are black, and there's a black sweetheart choker around his neck. But his hair is a shock of red. Kyungsoo stops with one foot over the threshold of the door. He can't process this confusing series of images—because when the guy turns to greet him, it becomes clear that he's flat-out gorgeous.

"Hi, I'm Chanyeol." He extends his hand. Kyungsoo gets a close-up look at long fingers, shiny black nail polish, and rings twisting like silver snakes. Jesus fuck.

Kyungsoo swallows and says, "Hi. Chanyeol?"

"Yeah. You're Kyungsoo?"

"Yeah."

They both fall silent. Kyungsoo stares at the subtle eyeliner on Chanyeol's lids, the swoop and grace of his makeup, the definition of his cheekbones...

"Uh, so what—" He blinks and adjusts his glasses. He's never seen this guy around campus before, he'd remember. "What did you need tutoring with, specifically? The Dean was very vague."

Vague: or totally unhelpful. Kyungsoo suddenly doesn't want Chanyeol to know he read the email three minutes ago and doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. What if he can't help at all? His gifts are primarily instinctive; he's never had to practice being a magician because he was born a magician. The Earth has always sung to him. Kyungsoo sounds like an asshole whenever he explains that, though.

Luckily Chanyeol seems a little nervous, too. He fidgets on the desk, sticking a finger through his bootstraps and tugging idly. "I don't have my discipline yet. I need to declare it before graduation."

"Right. Easy." Kyungsoo takes a deep breath and shakes off the last of his awkward shock. This is strictly professional. The Dean's an asshole, but these credits now count towards his GPA, and Kyungsoo cares about that. Probably too much. He grabs a marker and starts scribbling on the board. "You're in the School of Elementals, right? What's your secondary magic?"

"Fire. Maybe."

"I can work with that." Kyungsoo pauses to cross fire off his list. He thinks back to his own discipline test three years ago—the odd situations they simulated, and the even odder situations that would be needed for a senior like Chanyeol. He starts asking rapidfire questions. Coursework, habits, food preferences, any demonstrated aptitude for surfing, girlfriend/boyfriend/partner—

"No." Chanyeol pushes his hair back. "Um. No sure how that's relevant, but single."

Kyungsoo feels himself blush. He freezes with the pen still aloft. "Everything is relevant to magic," he says solemnly.

When the hour is up, they have exchanged phone numbers and social media accounts. Kyungsoo has a list of creative potential tests to weed out Chanyeol's discipline. They are strangers, but they part hopeful and engaged. Walking home, Kyungsoo's head is full for the first time in months. The challenge is welcome—maybe the Dean had the right idea assigning him this task.

Plus, Chanyeol really is gorgeous. Even semi-embarrassed and distantly polite, he exudes a sexy self-contentment. Not to mention his teeth are fucking perfect. But Kyungsoo isn't interested in anyone. Not even goth boys with pretty smiles.

"No, you don't get it." Chanyeol repositions himself on the bed and wiggles his fingers to heat the sheets. "He's beautiful. I almost dropped to my knees the second he walked into the room. Jongdae, he's like a god."

At the end of the bed, with his feet propped on a silk pillow, Jongdae continues scrolling through his phone. "Sure."

"I'm serious."

"You said that about the History of Elemental Magic TA. And the Language magician, that lab assistant. And that barista at Coffee Break—actually, he _is_ kind of a god."

Frustrated and a little hot under the proverbial collar—or in his case, choker—Chanyeol gets up and throws open the dorm window. The sun is sinking below the trees, washing the campus in gold light. A Weather magician must be studying downstairs, because a beautiful nimbus cloud is changing shapes above his head, from an elephant to a fork and back again. He leans his face toward the sunset and closes his eyes.

He has one chance to declare his discipline and save his future. This class is too important to risk on a dumb fantasy—even if he literally can't stop thinking about Kyungsoo. Chanyeol sighs and looks back at his roommate. "He's like a sexy, repressed professor. I'm so into it."

Jongdae pretends to gag. "What's his name? I'm gonna stalk him on social media."

"Do Kyungsoo."

"That sounds familiar." His thumbs move faster across the phone screen. "Earth magician Kyungsoo? Like, social enigma, 5.0 GPA Kyungsoo?"

How funny. It almost sounds like Jongdae has friends and is in touch with the school community. Which Chanyeol knows is not true. They're both self-isolating losers, that's why they get along so well.

"I guess," he says, trying to imagine the hot, scowling tutor wielding Earth magic. That's coveted stuff. Traditionally feminine, not that it matters. "You can see all that on his Snapchat?"

"Don't underestimate an Empath magician."

"I never do." Chanyeol crosses the room to a large glass cage on the opposite table. He just fed Lazarus an hour ago, but the cockroach is scurrying back and forth over the woodchips and waving his antenna in a frenzy. He taps the glass with one affectionate thumb. "What do you want, baby?"

Jongdae pretends to gag even louder. "Don't call me baby."

"I wasn't talking to _you_."

"Gross, please don't. They're vermin. Your discipline is probably cockroach whispering or something."

"Cock whispering? I agree."

Jongdae throws the silk pillow. Laughing, Chanyeol chucks the missile back. He turns and grabs his bag from the bedside table. "I should get going. If I'm early, Kyungsoo might _reward_ me."

Jongdae flops dramatically off the bed to sprawl over the floor. His frizzy curls fan out in a halo. "Disgusting. Let me know if he really is an Earth magician."

"Sure. I'll see you tonight."

The evening is cool and full of fellow students strolling around campus. Chanyeol takes comfort in familiar sites—cracked sidewalks, muddy splotches of red leaves, fat squirrels, and the endless trees sending dapples of light across the grass. Even several minutes' walk from the riverbank, he can hear ducks quacking. It's a perfect evening.

When he opens the door to room 6-AB, Chanyeol braces himself... Still not ready. His tutor turns around and Chanyeol's heart almost falls out of his chest. Kyungsoo is wearing another sweater, this time a beige turtleneck with too-long sleeves and arguably the ugliest cargo pants ever sewn. His glasses are crooked. The brown leather bag tossed below the desk screams pretentious. But when he crosses his arms over his chest— _wow_ is he hot.

Chanyeol scratches self-consciously at his septum piercing. "Hey."

"We're testing with an Air magician today." Kyungsoo shoves a blue folder into his bag and stalks past Chanyeol. "Follow me."

"Uh—okay," Chanyeol says, pivoting on one heel. "Just a reminder, I failed all of the Air magician tests freshman year."

They stop in front of the dingy elevator. Kyungsoo presses the up button. He's frowning, and Chanyeol fidgets. Should he clarify which tests? Is that information in his file? He distinctly remembers throwing up after the Gravitron. Then failing to blow a single dandelion seed. Air is _definitely_ not his discipline.

The elevator doors open. Kyungsoo waits until they're both inside and the doors are closing before he presses the button for the penthouse. Then he smiles up at Chanyeol and says, "We're not testing Air magic. We're testing Fear."

"Excuse me?"

Of course they end up on the roof. Of course Kyungsoo leans over the edge, right next to the fire escape, to wave at the sidewalk below. Chanyeol peers cautiously over the brick edge. There's a guy—tiny, dark hair, face unrecognizable—standing on the sidewalk below staring upwards. Groups of walking students part around him like water. He waves back at Kyungsoo and doesn't move.

"That's Sehun."

Chanyeol takes a step back. "Se-who?"

“No, Se- _hun_.”

His chest feels like it's constricting while his heart expands. The breeze is stronger up here. He can see the river peeking through the trees, cheerful ferns in windowsills, the roofs of brownstones along the street. A team of Water magicians is playing Riverball. He can see the ripples from their latest goal. It should be a glorious view but he feels— Cold and apprehensive. He can guess what's about to happen.

"You're going to jump." Kyungsoo points. "And he's going to catch you with wind."

Chanyeol takes a deep breath. "With all due respect, no."

Look. He's not what anyone would call a risk-taker. Chanyeol plays music louder than the recommended volume, he eats more sushi than is probably healthy, and he jaywalks. That's it. The idea of skydiving off this building and entrusting his life to a bona fide stranger is terrifying. Cool in theory, probably deadly in practice. He won't do it—not even for the sexy tutor.

Kyungsoo watches this decision take shape on Chanyeol's face and shrugs. "Okay," he says, stepping lightly over the railing. "I'll go first."

He looks down and gives a two-finger salute. Then Kyungsoo somersaults off the side of the building. Chanyeol gasps. He lunges for the rail and peers over it just in time to watch. Kyungsoo, arms spread like an eagle, soars upward in a graceful arch. He shoots over the trees to the delight of cheering passerbys below. Chanyeol can't see his face, but he can hear distant laughter.

On the sidewalk, Sehun is waving his arms like a conductor. Probably for the dramatics. Air magicians don't usually need that much flair. Sure enough, Kyungsoo is soon diving and twirling through the air. His limbs are graceful even with the wind pressure beating him upwards.

Against his better judgment, Chanyeol... reconsiders. He loosens his deathgrip on the railing. It _does_ look fun. If Sehun is experienced, and this could actually help discover his discipline... should he try it? Shit. He's imagining it now. Flying would be amazing.

Shit. He's going to say yes. Jongdae will never believe this.

Kyungsoo is blown gently back. He hits the roof hard, a shudder going through his ankles, but he turns to Chanyeol with a smile breaking across his face. "See? Perfectly safe."

Chanyeol deliberately looks away from his heaving chest and messy hair. He turns his face towards the river and says, "Fine. But you're coming with me, if Sehun can handle that." Like dual sky-diving. Sehun will be less likely to drop his friend, right?

"No problem." Kyungsoo leans over the edge to communicate something with Sehun. "Okay. How would you prefer to do it?"

Twelve different inappropriate scenarios flash through Chanyeol's head— _naked underneath you, preferably_ —and he's suddenly glad no Mind magicians are around to laugh at him. He steps up to the railing and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. At least, if he dies, he'll look great.

"Just." Chanyeol blinks at the drop below. "Just hold my hand. And don't let go."

Kyungsoo's hand is soft. Warmer than expected. He helps Chanyeol climb over the railing and follows quickly. They stand hand-in-hand at the edge of the world—or so it feels. It takes every ounce of willpower to let go of the railing with his other hand. Chanyeol releases his breath with a shudder, feeling his knees tremble with adrenaline, and closes his eyes. He hears a pedestrian below whoop with excitement. It doesn't hype up Chanyeol as probably intended. He kinda just wants to puke

Kyungsoo squeezes his hand. "You ready?"

The answer is almost no. "You're gonna have to pull me. I can't—I don't think—"

"I've got you." Kyungsoo tugs a little, not enough to throw them off balance. But enough to send Chanyeol's heart into pandemonium. "Just fall with me."

The message is clear: It must be Chanyeol's move.

So he falls.

Kyungsoo enjoys tutoring immensely. With a blueprint of common discipline aptitude tests, he can be as creative and unstructured as he wants. Chanyeol is obviously a special case requiring special guidance. It's difficult, but more than anything, it's fun. For their second class, he takes Chanyeol to an all-you-can-eat buffet.

"I hate sour stuff," Chanyeol says, stuffing a huge bite of pickled radish into his mouth and almost dislodging his lip ring. "But god I love radish."

"Radish is the king of vegetables."

"Preach." Kyungsoo spears a Tokyo roll with one chopstick. "What do you taste?"

"Heaven."

"Anything strange? Can you change the flavor or texture if you try?"

There's a pause of frantic chewing. Across the table, Chanyeol is hunched over his plate like he's about to pray. Kyungsoo is surprised by how much fun he's having—their personalities click well, and conversation flows as deep and steady as a river, eroding small talk altogether. He laughs at Chanyeol's impersonations of politicians. Chanyeol laughs at his dark predictions for post-grad life. They share an obvious love for food.

After a moment Chanyeol shakes his head. Red fringe falls into his eyes and he pushes his hair back with one hand, showing a flash of pale wrist along black gloves. "Normal. Delicious. I don't think I can change anything, though. I wouldn't know how."

"Close your eyes," Kyungsoo says. Chanyeol obeys immediately. He sits patient and still, lips parted, like a dream.

 _Don't make it weird, this is your student_ , Kyungsoo thinks, even as he takes full advantage of Chanyeol's obliviousness to stare. He wants to bite that full bottom lip. Suck on the ring there. Would it hurt Chanyeol if he did?

Distracted, Kyungsoo almost drops his spoonful of grilled pork. He clears his throat and says, "I'm feeding you yogurt."

"Ew." Chanyeol accepts the spoon and chews with an exaggerated frown. "This is pork, though?"

"Yeah, you're not a Taste or Shape magician."

Chanyeol shrugs. He steals an onion ring off Kyungsoo's plate and doesn't look too bothered.

From then on, Kyungsoo changes tactics. He organizes radically creative activities. A small cookout, to test Chanyeol's speed and ability to multitask. Rollerskates, to test his balance and flexibility. They review dictionaries in 112 different languages. They tend to flowers in the school greenhouse. Every night for two weeks they tackle another potential magic, getting more and more specific each day.

The hardest part is watching Chanyeol fail over and over again.

"It's not you," Kyungsoo starts to say. "It's not your fault. It's me. I just need to think of different tests."

But tonight—this gorgeous Friday evening, almost three weeks after the start of tutoring—Kyungsoo has a great feeling.

"We're going to the gym," he announces when Chanyeol enters their classroom.

Chanyeol's eyes stretch comically wide behind enormous pink frames. His hair is wild, like he ran here straight from bed. "I already went to the gym today."

"What did you do?"

There's a moment of hesitation. Chanyeol's fingers flex around the strap of his black bag. "...Is that relevant to class?"

It's not, really, but Kyungsoo nods seriously. The prettiest blush spreads across Chanyeol's face. He scratches awkwardly at his septum piercing, which only draws attention to his cheeks, and makes Kyungsoo want to do something weird as hell. Like kiss those cheeks. Chanyeol doesn't meet his eyes, but says confidently, "I do yoga every morning."

Kyungshoo shrugs like the answer is inconsequential. “Cool. Then we’ll do some cardio exercises.”

He leads the way across campus. Doyoung, a slim Time magician from General Defense class, waves obnoxiously from across the street. He's hand-in-hand with a pretty redhead who stares at Kyungsoo like he's the star of a drama. At the same time, a flashy Mitsubishi rolls by and the driver does a double-take.Quickly Kyungsoo turns down a winding path through the trees, hoping Chanyeol doesn't notice the strange attention he receives in public. He's practically a university celebrity. It's uncomfortable as shit. This is why he prefers the anonymity of night.

Luckily, Chanyeol looks too tired to notice. There are unusual wrinkles under his eyes and he's dragging both feet along the sidewalk. During a normal class, they chatter away, but Kyungsoo suddenly feels tongue-tied. He wants to make Chanyeol smile—but how?

He goes for a neutral, "How was your day?"

"Long." Chanyeol shrugs. "I'm in negotiations with a scientific journal for one of my studies. They're publishing it, but they want a fuck ton of edits."

"Congratulations on getting published."

"But at what cost?"

Kyungsoo opens the heavy doors to the gymnasium. "Sorry to tell you this, but you sold your soul to academia when you enrolled at the most prestigious magical school in the country."

Chanyeol cracks a rueful smile, so Kyungsoo considers it a win. A stream of students are coming and going from the gym foyer. There's a discarded, sweaty towel in the middle of the hallway they must step around to enter the locker room. Disgusting. Kyungsoo is reminded of why he never comes here. They traipse straight through the locker room and into the opposite hallway. When they pass the pool, the diving team turns all at once to stare at Kyungsoo.

How does _everyone_ recognize his face from the class ranking list? It's ridiculous. Disciplines shouldn’t be public knowledge. Just because he's an Earth magician... He probably draws extra attention in this sweater. It’s not exactly befitting a gymnasium. Fine. Whatever. He picks up the pace and takes the stairs two at a time to the private practice rooms.

The room he reserved is small. There's a mat in the center, a long silver stick leaning against the mirror, one enormous punching bag, and a tiny box of weighted balls. Half of the equipment is alien to Kyungsoo.

"I've never been upstairs before." Chanyeol presses his face to a window displaying the diving team two floors below. If the glass shattered, he would fall straight into the deep end of the pool.

"I made us a reservation. We're testing Body magic."

"You mean Physical magic?"

Kyungsoo tests the punching bag by swinging it gently. "No—have you read the Treatise on Manifestations of Physical Magic? There's a relatively new theory that Body magic is actually a separate denomination."

"Seriously? Tell me about it." Chanyeol turns away from the window. "Or, wait, do you have the readings? Can you share them?"

Something in Kyungsoo's chest warms. He's never had anyone to discuss theory with. Baekhyun refuses on the basis that it puts him to sleep, and as a Dreamwalker, he should never sleep in the same room as someone else. Here is a willing listener and an enthusiastic contributor. They get side-tracked into that conversation until Kyungsoo remembers himself. "And Young’s data shows the beginning of—oh shit. We should get started. Here, stand in front of the punching bag."

Chanyeol crosses the room. The punching bag dwarfs him. He fiddles awkwardly with his rings before slipping them off and handing them to Kyungsoo. "Can you hold on to these?"

Rings clink together in his palms. The metal is warm and Kyungsoo wants so badly to slip them onto his own fingers. Would that be weird? That would be incredibly weird. His wrist twitches. He does it anyway. Kyungsoo flexes his fingers and watches the silver snakes slide over his knuckles. "They look better on me."

"You know that's not true."

Chanyeol returns to the punching bag and doesn't look back, but Kyungsoo can tell he's smiling. He wants to follow, to grab his waist and turn him around—

Stay professional. This is a job. His GPA is at stake. Even if they're the same age, Kyungsoo is technically the professor and Chanyeol is the student. Funny behavior is strictly prohibited by the university. Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. "Okay. Hit the bag."

He's utterly unprepared for what happens next. Chanyeol transforms under the command. He stands straighter, rolls his shoulders twice, and launches an explosive punch. With a satisfying smack, the bag shoots backwards. Chanyeol repeats with his left hand. Then again. He falls into a quick rhythm, fists slamming the leather again and again, adjusting his weight on bent knees. Muscular shoulders are vaguely visible beneath his shirt.

Yoga. Yeah right.

Kyungsoo barely remembers to say, "Okay, that's good. It's been a minute."

He checks Chanyeol's heartrate and blood pressure with equipment from the storage closet downstairs. All average for someone of his age and build.

"Have you ever been in a fight?" Kyungsoo takes note of the numbers and leads Chanyeol by the sleeve to the center of the room. They stand across from each other. "This is for science."

"Only verbal ones."

"Did you win?"

Chanyeol smiles. "Always."

This is promising. Chanyeol has natural athletic ability but hasn't triggered a fight response before. There could be a hidden discipline, dormant for lack of use. Finally. Kyungsoo slides the rings off his fingers and onto the table, then braces his legs on the ground, letting his awareness sink lower to spread along the mat and, below that, the cement floor. Soil underneath sings to him, louder and louder the harder he listens. Kyungsoo feels every muscle in his body relax. Briefly he closes his eyes and catalogues the weight of Chanyeol's feet on the ground—his stance, his height, the curve of his spine, his neck gently tilted sideways with surprise.

"Punch me," Kyungsoo says. He feels Chanyeol shift his weight backwards as if in recoil.

" _What_?"

"I want you to."

This time Chanyeol winces. "Don't say—that. Jeez, okay. Fine. I want it on record that I'm uncomfortable with this."

Ordinarily Kyungsoo wouldn't press, but this is a promising lead. He reaches out to squeeze Chanyeol's hand, once, like he did before they jumped from the roof. "For science."

Delightfully, Chanyeol squeezes back. They both let go and lean back—that's when Kyungsoo realizes they had moved closer somehow. The mat stretches far around them. Plenty of room. He doesn't correct their placement. The thin shadows under Chanyeol's eyes seem to darken when he echoes, "For science."

A subtle shift in weight is the only warning Kyungsoo gets before his opponent winds back and strikes. Everything slows. He dodges. Feints left. Slams an open palm against Chanyeol's stomach, exposed after the attempted punch. Chanyeol falls to his knees, coughing. Kyungsoo is so hyper-focused on the Earth that his whole body trembles with the force of Chanyeol's fall.

That moment of distraction has consequences—like a whip, Chanyeol tugs Kyungsoo's ankles out from under him. He crashes to the ground and lands hard on his hip. Before the pain can set in, he dives for Chanyeol's waist and tackles him flat. Arms flailing, Chanyeol shoves him off, and Kyungsoo's head smacks hard against the mat.

"Oh, god, sorry," Chanyeol gasps. His hands immediately go to cradle Kyungsoo's head, dropping every pretense of a fight. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Kyungsoo sits up and feels along his skull. There's already a bump forming, but it's small, and the pain is minimal. Chanyeol's fingers thread gently through his hair. He feels the bump, too, and his face falls. Those wide eyes dart over Kyungsoo's face as if checking for other, hidden injuries. His mouth is so close.

Kyungsoo draws in a deep breath, suddenly aware of every point of contact between their bodies—knees pressed together on the mat, fingers brushing in his hair, eyes locked. Chanyeol blinks. Eyelashes fan across his cheeks as he looks down. To Kyungsoo's mouth. Kyungsoo wants to speak, to shatter this ballooning moment, but can't think of what to say. He feels frozen, encaptured, by Chanyeol's lips a breath from his own.

That hesitation once again costs him. Chanyeol inches forward. "Do you maybe... want to get dinner? Outside of class. Like a date."

Kyungsoo’s heart stops. "What?"

That's not what he expected to hear. Chanyeol looks like he didn't mean to say it. One hand slaps over his mouth and his ears turn a funny shade of pink. A shrill voice in the back of Kyungsoo's head starts chanting _illegal, expulsion, GPA, illegal_!

He jerks away. "No," he says, then tries to articulate why the answer is no, even though he wouldn't mind going on a date, or several. But his mind goes blank.

Chanyeol flinches. He leans away and casts his eyes to the ceiling. Shit. The attractive pink of his cheeks is fading. Kyungsoo watches him wilt and an awful regret cracks in his chest. What has he done?

"Sorry. That's fine. I should go." Chanyeol stands and collects his rings from the table.

"Wait, Chanyeol.” Kyungsoo scrambles to follow. The least he can do is explain—he wants to, he just can't—but the door shuts in his face.

He stands alone in the room. Sensing the vibrations of Chanyeol’s feet upstairs, he waits until his tutoree is out of the building before sinking back to the floor and burying his head in his hands. Why didn’t he just kiss Chanyeol? He wanted to. Still wants to. Fuck, he’s a coward. And a rule-follower, apparently. The irony isn't lost on him, resident daredevil, that he's too afraid of being expelled to accept the proposal.

He aims an errant kick at the punching bag. It swings back. Kyungsoo rubs his temple in frustration and completely misses when the punching bag returns to smack him in the forehead. The momentum shoves him flat on his back.

 _I probably deserved that_ , he thinks, and closes his eyes.

Chanyeol is a romantic idiot.

He leaves the gym, runs home, climbs out the window, and starts pacing across his tiny balcony.

“I always get attached.” He punctuates his self-loathing tirade by crunching a leaf in his palm. “Then I make a move too soon and they run away. Every. Time.”

The leaf shards burst into flames between his fingers. He doesn’t feel the heat, of course, but he has to dust the ash off. It sprinkles over the railing and down, down, to the forest floor below. Branches of the oak tree rustle overhead where they brush against the next highest balcony. Chanyeol reaches up and effortlessly tugs off another leaf, half-orange and fragile.

“And I have to see him tomorrow. He probably hates me.” Chanyeol groans and throws the leaf on the ground, where it goes up in a burst of smoke.

This is a childish way to cope. He knows that. But the leaves are dying anyway, it’s not like they know the difference. He’s such an idiot. Kyungsoo is—gorgeous. A powerful magician. Way too smart for him. Practically a stranger, regardless of how close they've gotten in the past several weeks. Of course he wouldn’t want to date Chanyeol. It was foolish to hope.

Plus, Chanyeol should be focusing on more important things. Like his discipline. Or the fifty-seven pages of edits he needs to review before his research can actually finally be published. Chanyeol reaches for a leaf too high and slips on the wet concrete. He slams waist-first against the railing hard enough to rattle his teeth. At the same time, he hears the distant sound of the door closing inside. He counts. One, two, three...

The sliding glass door opens. Jongdae’s concerned face appears. There’s a half-eaten apple dangling from his mouth that he removes to ask, “What happened? You feel—awful.”

"I just screwed up, it's okay."

Jongdae steps outside and closes the door behind him. "I have a late meeting in ten, but if you want to talk about it, I can skip."

A surge of gratitude catches in Chanyeol's throat. He swallows hard and pulls Jongdae into a hug. The apple is crushed between them, but Jongdae uses his free hand to rub along Chanyeol's back, and the faintest feeling of calm settles over their embrace. Gently Chanyeol pulls back and shakes his head. "Don't make me feel better."

"You noticed that?" Jongdae winces, exaggerated, as he flicks ash from his shirt. Oops. "Sorry. I only gave you the tiniest bit of calm."

"I always notice." Chanyeol shrugs and leans back against the railing. His roommate rarely ever uses his magic, and when he does it's intentional and sparing. He doesn't mind it usually. "It's okay—I appreciate you trying to help—but I deserve to feel shitty this time."

"Can't be true. No one deserves loss or shame."

Objectively, that's true. But right now Chanyeol is still fired up, literally, and wants to stomp around and burn some leaves. "It's dumb. Just boy stuff. We'll talk about it later, go to your meeting."

Jongdae nods. "Okay. But I'll hold you to that."

"Deal."

Chanyeol puts himself to bed and doesn't think about pretty boys with expressive eyes. He's dreading the next practice. He considers faking an illness. But that would be too obvious—could he "accidentally" set fire to his bed? Or pretend his long-lost cousin needs him urgently for dinner in the next town? What if Jongdae breaks his arm?

No. The following day, he cloaks himself in his favorite leather jacket and marches to the student union with his head high. Screw it. Professionalism, here he comes. _For my discipline_ , he tells himself. _For my diploma. For my future. For my magic._

When he arrives at the classroom, the lights are off and the door is shut. Chanyeol makes himself comfortable on the professor's desk. He sits cross-legged while he waits and scrolls through Pinterest boards on interior design. His stomach drops every time there's a noise, expecting Kyungsoo to burst through and cancel their lessons on the spot.

That doesn't happen. As an Earth magician, Kyungsoo is unusually light on his feet. Chanyeol doesn't hear him enter at all before a voice comes from the threshold of the door. "Hey, I'm sorry about yesterday."

Shit. Chanyeol almost drops his phone. "No, I'm sorry." He slides off the desk and stands, awkwardly, fiddling with the chain on his jacket. "Can we just... focus on the lessons?"

"Yeah." Kyungsoo gives him a small, heart-like smile. "Of course. Do you want to hear the test for today?"

"Sure."

Kyungsoo crosses his arms and says brightly, "White water rafting."

"White... water... rafting?" Chanyeol echoes.

His first thought is, _Hahaha yeah right_.

His second thought is, _Well that's a great distraction. I can't be embarrassed if I'm dead_.

He takes stock of Kyungsoo's outfit: a tight black shirt that might possibly be a wetsuit, paired with yellow shorts that are definitely dryfit and ridiculous for the onset of autumn. What the fuck. He's serious.

Kyungsoo nods and holds out a little blue bag. "It's fun, I promise. Put your phone in here. The bag's waterproof."

"I'm a Fire magician. I mean—my secondary magic." Chanyeol drops his phone in the bag numbly. He can't imagine himself more than ankle-deep in the river. "There's no way I have an affinity for water."

"We're testing everything."

"I can't swim."

"I can."

Chanyeol follows Kyungsoo outside, peppering him with questions. "Are you a lifeguard?"

"Well, no. But the raft is safe."

"Will there be a Water magician supervising? Like Sehun did?" He asks as they cross the grassy quad. They approach the riverbank, where several couples are strolling or slurping cones of dripping ice cream. Sunset orange smears down the horizon. This is a distinctly romantic spot at dusk, and the ambience adds another layer of tension to Chanyeol.

Kyungsoo just says, "I've got it. I've done this a hundred times, it's a blast. You should probably leave your jacket here."

They're standing on a tiny, dilapidated pier. "Where?"

In the blink of an eye, a structure rises from the sand behind Chanyeol. It's a stone box. His jacket folds neatly inside, as do his boots. The box seals itself when he's finished. Chanyeol turns around to see a large raft floating towards the pier as if led by invisible hands—or gentle, rumbling rocks from the river floor. He braces himself against the cold trepidation hanging low in his stomach. God, he doesn't want to do this. The river is beautiful, but deadly. Everyone knows to respect the water—especially without an apt magician around.

His hands are sweaty when he climbs into the raft and settles against the cool plastic. Didn't a careless student drown in this river fifty years ago? "Oh, no." He grips the plastic handle. "Please tell me we have lifejackets."

Kyungsoo sits opposite him. They're face to face, breeze in their hair, as he shakes his head. "Better for your magic if we don't wear them."

"I don't like this."

"I won't let anything happen." Kyungsoo smiles. It's forced and tiny and he doesn't meet Chanyeol's eyes, but it's there. "I—this is supposed to be fun, I swear."

Hurtling over mountainous waves is not Chanyeol's idea of fun, but he acknowledges the professional need to move past yesterday as succinctly as possible. Kyungsoo is trying to do something nice. At least this is a good distraction. They drift gently from the pier. Moving downstream, their speed picks up quickly, and the first foaming rock appears around the bend. Chanyeol shivers. The roaring of the water becomes louder, louder...

"Take deep breaths," Kyungsoo shouts. "Focus on the river. Try to change our speed or direction. Control our path."

Chanyeol tries. He funnels into himself, seeking the warm energy that accompanies fire, thinking about the jerking motion of the raft. He imagines them moving slower. Backwards. Up into the air, even, away from the dips and pitfalls of the water entirely. He thinks he's making headway until a splash of ice-cold water hits him in the face.

Sputtering, Chanyeol opens his eyes and wipes his cheeks. This is fucking miserable. Kyungsoo laughs everytime they bounce off a rock—he lets his body slam into the side of the raft like he enjoys the thrill of potentially falling out. Water sloshes at the bottom, freezing Chanyeol's feet and making the whole experience uncomfortable. Nothing's working. Chanyeol is cold and frustrated. His knuckles ache from gripping the handles so tightly. A particularly hard turn sends his head bouncing against the raft's rim.

Kyungsoo squints in the low light. "Are you okay?"

"It's fine." Chanyeol is determined not to complain. "But this isn't working."

"Switch places with me." Kyungsoo waves him over. "Face downstream."

Awkwardly Chanyeol tries to move across the raft. There's not enough space to turn safely, let alone slide to the opposite seat, and his legs wobble when they ricochet off a small, hidden boulder below the water. Kyungsoo sees him start to lose his balance and reaches out, stretching an arm— Only for them to careen over a dip in the river. Momentum tosses Kyungsoo up and away. He lands half in the water, with his waist draped over the side of the raft, and he scrambles for grip along the slippery edge.

Chanyeol throws himself forward and tries to grab onto his elbows, his shoulders, anything, but they're moving fast and in a split second Kyungsoo loses his balance and slips entirely into the dark water.

"Fuck," Chanyeol whispers, twisting over the edge to scan the water. The current is moving so fast, he's rapidly leaving the spot where Kyungsoo disappeared. He said he could swim. Right? He cranes his neck, but the sky is dark. "Kyungsoo? _Kyungsoo_?"

What if he hit his head on a rock? What if he's drowning? Fucking shit. Regardless, Chanyeol is now alone on a raft speeding downriver at night. He can't swim. His magic is sitting cold and lifeless at the bottom of his chest, smothered by dread and fear. There's only one thing left to do. Chanyeol ties the waterproof bag to his chest and rolls himself out of the raft.

He lands hard on a rock, which is what he wanted. It takes all of his strength to pull himself out of the water and onto the flat surface of the rock. Through the gloom, he can see a stepping-stone path to the riverbed, and beyond that, the raft shooting away with no passengers. Chanyeol could pull himself out of the river right now. It would be exhausting, and he wants nothing more than to be safe on dry land, but...

"Kyungsoo!" He shouts, cupping one hand around his mouth. There's no sign of him. Only rushing water and foam breaking constantly against the rocks. An icy cold sets into Chanyeol's bones as he twists himself towards the center of the river. This can't be happening.

Something moves upstream. He barely sees it. It's just a shadow on the rocks, but that's enough. Chanyeol gets to his feet—still shaking from cold and shock—and hops from one jutting stone toward another. Always toward that shadow. Teeth chattering, he calls again, "Kyungsoo?"

There's no answer. The final stone is so slippery Chanyeol almost crashes back into the water, but he manages to haul himself beside the shadow. He reaches out and—it's a body. He turns Kyungsoo over. His face is cold and still, his body limp and viciously twisted over the edge of the rock. There's no blood, but his chest doesn't rise.

Chanyeol fucking panics.

"Wake up." He shakes Kyungsoo's shoulders. He presses his fingers to the pulse point on Kyungsoo's damp neck. "Hey, come on. You're okay. Wake up."

Does he know CPR? He's seen videos, obviously, but he's never been in this situation before, where someone's life is in danger, and he isn't confident he can angle Kyungsoo's esophagus right, because isn't there a chance he could break his ribs? It's too late anyway. Kyungsoo isn't breathing.

A star of heat explodes in Chanyeol's chest. His skin warms up. His hands, pressed to Kyungsoo's neck, grow so hot that he flinches back. It's similar to how he feels when he conjures fire, but magnified by a hundred, a thousand, and completely out of control. He feels supercharged. The magic takes a deep breath with his chest, possessing his whole body for one fragile moment, before gently expelling itself in tingles down Chanyeol's hands.

He watches a faint yellow light rest on Kyungsoo's chest and disappear. Holy fuck.

Kyungsoo coughs. He spits river water onto the rock and gasps, eyes fluttering open. Chanyeol instinctively cups the back of Kyungsoo's head and helps him sit up on shaking elbows.

"It's okay," Chanyeol says, and his voice breaks, because he doesn't understand what just happened but it felt like something took control of him. "Breathe. Just breathe."

It takes several awful gasps for Kyungsoo to speak. "What." He swallows hard. "Happened?"

A lock of short, dark hair is dripping water into his eyes. Kyungsoo shivers, blinks, and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. The rock beneath them trembles once, violently, as the Earth reacts to his shock. Chanyeol grips the edge with white knuckles.

"You almost drowned," he says numbly. "You... you weren't breathing."

Kyungsoo rubs his throat with one hand. "It hurts."

"I brought you back with magic."

His eyebrows twist upwards in confusion. "CPR?"

Chanyeol realizes one hand is still cupping the back of Kyungsoo's neck, keeping him steady, stroking the sopping ends of his hair. Gently he tries to move away—but Kyungsoo sways, still weak and disoriented, so Chanyeol wraps an arm around his shoulders. They sit entwined on the face of the rock. How can he describe the fuzzy light that brought Kyungsoo back?

"No," he says faintly. "It was the magic."

Kyungsoo gently rests his head on Chanyeol's shoulder. He must be too weak to hold himself upright. His eyes flutter closed. "Thanks," he mumbles, lips hardly parted enough to form words. "Was a bad idea."

"No more rafting." Chanyeol leans back slightly, shivering and trying to angle Kyungsoo into a more comfortable position.

Kyungsoo has a plan. It's potentially the most dangerous and experimental plan he's ever thought of. More exhilarating than hiking Mount Jenworth just north of campus last year. More nerve-wracking than sky-diving with Sehun three months ago. He arrives at classroom 6-AB nervous, but hopeful. He just needs one thing.

Luckily, Baekhyun is waiting right where he asked him to meet.

"You want me to _what_?" Baekhyun crosses his arms and leans against a desk.

"I want you to hurt Chanyeol. In his dreams."

"How?"

Kyungsoo shrugs. He drops his leather bag on a desk. The classroom is empty, as always, and evening casts long shadows across the stained carpet. He's trying not to show how much this means to him—he needs Baekhyun to say yes. Chanyeol saved his life with magic. The matter of his mysterious discipline is personal now, and graduation looms closer every day. "That's up to you," he says, watching Baekhyun tap long fingers against the desk. "But I want to test for healing magic and this is a lot less dangerous than stabbing him."

"Yeah, you might think so. It's still dangerous as fuck." Baekhyun tugs at his silver hair. He sips from his thermos, then sips again. It's anyone's guess whether his poison of choice is espresso or Red Bull today. "I have very little control in the dreamspace. Things might happen that will... effect him."

Kyungsoo bites his lip. "What else can we do? I wouldn't ask if there were other options."

"Stab a squirrel."

"Okay, no. Healing magic usually only works on humans."

"Why do you think he has healing magic?" Baekhyun frowns. The suspicion spreads across his face. "What happened?"

This isn't a good time to explain _oh I died no biggie_. Kyungsoo's still wrestling with the potential ramifications of coming back to life—does he feel any different? Any looseness in his soul, in his magic? So far, no. But it's scary to think about what happened. He remembers the fear, the cold, the dark. Then Chanyeol's wrecked face. So Kyungsoo does the shameful thing and lies by omission. "I got hurt during one of our lessons. He... fixed it."

The room is quiet. Baekhyun shakes his head, but his frowning eyebrows relax like he's warming to the idea. "Well it can't happen in his own dream. His subconscious will try to fight me off." He starts pacing up and down the row, head bent. "Not in my dream, because he's a stranger. We would need neutral territory."

"Do it in my dreamspace."

Baekhyun stops walking. "Oh. That—might work."

"I'm more grounded than most people, you said it yourself last time."

"Last time I entered your dream, I was very drunk and it was very accidental."

Kyungsoo checks his watch. Fifteen minutes before Chanyeol arrives. "You can do it again, Baekhyun. I trust you."

The truth about Dreamwalking is—Baekhyun's the best. No exaggeration. He's the first and only Dreamwalker to attend their school, because most of his kind are oblivious to their own magic, only dabbling in lucid dreaming. Typically they reach mid-thirties with nothing but an itch of some forgotten, unused power. It's the worst life Kyungsoo can imagine—knowing you were once meant for great things. Baekhyun confessed in whispers during freshman year that he'd been wandering in and out of strangers' dreams since he was twelve. He knew what he was, and he was the best.

That's why Baekhyun sighs now. There's no other option, and they're friends, so he will relent. "I'll help on one condition."

"Anything."

"I want a witness. In case we can't wake up."

Kyungsoo grabs his phone. "I'll ask Chanyeol to bring someone."

So it's settled. Chanyeol sounds confused on the phone, but he agrees to bring his roommate, whom Kyungsoo has heard much about. He sits and tries to relax. There's plenty of room to lay on the floor when the time comes, but should he get a blanket? A pillow? There's a wrinkled blue scarf stuffed into his bag. Kyungsoo smooths and folds it.

Across the room, Baekhyun is still pacing. He lifts the thermos and sets it down. "Shit," he says. "It's been so long since I've done this deliberately."

"I didn't know you'd ever stabbed someone in their dreams deliberately."

Baekhyun snorts. "Not that. Falling asleep in front of someone."

"It's not a big deal. So you glow in your sleep." Kyungsoo shrugs. "Kinda weird, but not a dealbreaker."

The look Baekhyun gives him is icy. They've had this discussion before, and Kyungsoo still doesn't understand his friend's utter reluctance to let down his guard with people. Something about how he can't control himself—evidenced by entering Kyungsoo's dream once, Halloween night freshman year, when they collapsed in the hallway of the dorm after too many tequila shots. Kyungsoo didn't even remember his nightmare upon waking, but Baekhyun could barely look at him from shame.

"I lost control," Baekhyun had mumbled. "I made you see things—I made everything worse. And then I buried it so deep in your dreamspace you wouldn't remember."

Since then he's refused a roommate, a one night stand, another close friend, anyone. He goes to class. He spends time with Kyungsoo and Minseok. He never sleeps if he can help it. And that's it.

Now Baekhyun sighs. "You know it's more complicated than that." He screws up his face like he's about to argue further, but the door opens before he can.

"Hey," Chanyeol calls.

His eyes immediately find Kyungsoo. It feels meaningful, the way Chanyeol checks him up and down, and Kyungsoo has to look away before he blushes. A lump rises in his throat. Things are so complicated now. He wants to hold Chanyeol, feel his soft skin and racing heart, and that has nothing to do with how good he looks in those black skinny jeans. It doesn't have anything to do with Chanyeol saving his life, either. Kyungsoo realizes all at once that his feelings aren't limited to gratitude or lust. He cares. The depth of his own emotion almost bowls him over, and he fists both hands to keep from reaching out for Chanyeol.

"Hey," he says back. Very casually.

"How are you feeling?" Chanyeol crosses his arms and keeps a respectful distance. He nods at Baekhyun—they've met each other in passing—but his attention is focused on Kyungsoo.

"I'm feeling fine," Kyungsoo says. "I just—"

An appreciative whistle interrupts him. Kyungsoo forgot all about their additional company until a scruffy-haired guy peeks into view, partially hidden by Chanyeol's shoulders. He's swallowed up in a giant yellow sweatshirt with the words HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY printed across the chest in rainbow font. Also, he's beaming.

"You're feeling, alright." Jongdae raises his eyebrows and looks meaningfully between his roommate and Kyungsoo. "Take a deep breath, dude. I see what you mean about him being repressed."

"I—what?" Kyungsoo's mouth falls open. Repressed? Fuck. Jongdae is an Empath magician. He must've sensed that whole epiphany.

Chanyeol's eyes widen. "I never said... That was weeks ago, you dick."

"I'm not repressed." Kyungsoo objects.

Baekhyun nudges him with one boot. "You kinda are."

"Oh, _you_ can't say shit."

"Anyway," Jongdae interjects, splaying his hands into a peacemaking gesture like he didn't just cause minor chaos. "Not my business. Why do you need a witness for this class? Do I get to do cool death-defying stunts, too?"

Kyungsoo exchanges a glance with Baekhyun. It's better for the Dreamwalker to explain. Everyone should fully understand what they're getting into. Succinctly, Baekhyun explains the idea of using healing magic in the dreamspace. "Theoretically, you can do any type of magic in a dream," he concludes. "But in Kyungsoo's dreamspace, you won't be in control. Things will feel real. You'll be bound by rules of physics and reality. It's a good way to test what you can and can't do."

"But totally experimental," Kyungsoo interjects. "You can say no if you don't want to try it."

Chanyeol chews on his bottom lip. He’s looking at Baekhyun but his eyes are far away. “And the risks?”

“We could get trapped in the dreamspace. That’s why we need a witness.” Baekhyun turns to Jongdae. They’re of similar height and build, so it’s strange to watch him size up the Empath magician with a critical eye. Like they’re about to jump in the boxing ring together. “You need to wake us if we’re asleep for more than an hour.”

To his credit, Jongdae doesn’t look daunted. He nods. “What if you won’t wake up?”

“Then take your obnoxious sweatshirt and wrap it around my head until I suffocate.”

Chanyeol puts his hands on his hips. “No one is dying, jeez.” He snorts. "Just slap us. I'm a light sleeper. Let's try it."

"You and I will have the worst headaches afterwards," Baekhyun warns, already kneeling on the carpet and brushing eraser crumbs from his chosen spot. "Okay, all you have to do is fall asleep and I'll guide the rest. Sound good?"

"Sir yes sir." Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and settles on the ground next to Baekhyun. His legs fit neatly under the nearest desk. Casually he pats the spot next to him in invitation for Chanyeol. Very casually. They can sleep next to each other without things being weird, right? Unwelcome images come to mind of Chanyeol with bedhead, naked except for the white blanket around his waist. Kyungsoo clears his throat. His face feels warm and he refuses to look at Jongdae, just in case.

"Okay," Chanyeol says, tucking his legs beneath him and curling into a tight ball. His knees brush Kyungsoo's legs. "I'm not tired, though. Might take me a minute to fall asleep—"

Chanyeol wakes up flat on his back. He's in a rock-studded meadow on the peak of a small mountain. He sits up and shades his eyes, blinking through crisp wind. The sky is clear and endlessly blue. Grass tickles his ankles. For some reason he's wearing a loose white shirt and jeans, and the colors look so foreign on his own body that he freezes.

"Kyungsoo?" He stands and brushes soil from his pants. "Baekhyun?"

There's no sign of them at all—only acres of weedy grass and hills rolling downward. Snow speckles the ground at the edge of the meadow. A gentle popping sound startles Chanyeol and he turns around to see Baekhyun shaking out wet hair several steps away. He's in a full periwinkle suit.

"You okay?" Baekyun asks, stepping around a rock to approach.

"Yeah. Uh. You're soaking wet."

He shrugs and doesn't look pleased. "Dreamspace antics. I'm not fighting how Kyungsoo's subconscious wants me to appear. You look a lot better, no surprise."

Chanyeol doesn't know what that means, but he peers around the mountain with renewed interest. He's inside Kyungsoo's head right now. This doesn't feel like a dream—he's never been to the top of a mountain and couldn't imagine it with these details. Sun reflects off frozen dew in the grass and catches his eye.

"Where's Kyungsoo?" He turns back to Baekhyun, who is stomping the ground with one foot.

"I don't know, but he should find us soon."

Sure enough, a gentle shiver rocks the Earth in response to Baekhyun's stomps. The breeze picks up and whips Chanyeol's hair. When he presses it flat to his head, he sees from the corner of his eye the strands changing from red to black, red to black, before settling on black. His natural hair. He hasn't seen it in a couple years. The dreamspace is weird.

Kyungsoo crests a hill down the slope of the mountain. He walks to them quickly, dressed in a comfortable sweater and corduroys, and doesn't seem to notice their odd appearances. "Okay," he says, out of breath. "What do we do, Baekhyun?"

"You sit there." Baekhyun points to a flat rock. "Meditate. Do yoga. Breathing exercises. I don't give a shit. Just keep this place as calm as possible." He stretches both arms above his head and cracks his neck. Like a wrestler about to lunge for the takedown. "I can't focus on controlling the dreamspace if I'm trying to work with Chanyeol."

"Okay." Kyungsoo nods, wide-eyed. "Deal."

He folds himself neatly onto the rock and lifts his hands into a traditional, palms-up meditative pose. Sitting like that, he looks unusually small, and Chanyeol wants to set his problems aside and sit with him. They could just talk. For hours. It's tempting, on the still serenity of this mountain, to put off their mission. He wants to enjoy this finnicky dreamspace.

Baekhyun seems to hear these thoughts. He snaps his fingers in front of Chanyeol's face once, twice. "Focus, man. Your body doesn't know you're asleep. This will hurt."

"I have a high pain tolerance."

"Good." Baekhyun shuts his eyes briefly, murmurs something, and flicks his wrist until a sword grows out of his fingertips like a mirage appendage. It should've been impossible. He swings it several times, adjusting his stance under its heavy golden hilt.

What the hell. Chanyeol has to fight that? He holds up one hand. "Hold on, how do I—"

Like a viper, Baekhyun lashes out. He slices the tip of the sword across Chanyeol's palm just hard enough to draw blood. Pain cracks across Chanyeol's hand. Yelping, he stumbles back. The sky flickers from blue to orangish gray, like a post-fire afternoon, and he hears Kyungsoo say, "What happened?"

"It's fine." Chanyeol takes a deep breath and squeezes the stinging cut. He can't immediately focus past the shock, but he doesn't feel an unearthly warmth in his chest. No possessive magic coming to light up his wound. It's not working. Kyungsoo and Baekhyun are both watching him intensely. Jeez, the two of them together are scary. Chanyeol shakes his head. "Nothing."

Kyungsoo drops his yoga hands. "Just do it, Baekhyun."

Baekhyun levels his sword at Kyungsoo's face. "Keep your eyes closed and focus on the sky." He points upward. "Why the hell does it look like Burning Man in here?"

"I got distracted when Chanyeol screamed."

"He'll be screaming worse before I'm done with him."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. Chanyeol can tell he's trying not to laugh, and almost compliments Baekhyun on lifting the mood. Gently, orange clouds drain from the sky and a calm blue light settles over the meadow once more. Kyungsoo settles back onto the rock and closes his eyes. Blood is still pooling in Chanyeol's hand. He opens and closes it reflexively, almost mesmerized by the injury. He's never had one like it. He doesn't get hurt very often—he's lucky—and the pain is uncomfortable. Will there be a scar when he wakes up? Of course not, right?

A soft hand touches his elbow.

"I think you have to die for this to work." Baekhyun admits. His eyes, usually smiling crescents, are serious and wide. "Are you okay with that? It's just a dream, and it won't physically hurt you, but I understand if you don't want to do it."

Chanyeol angles his wrist so blood doesn't drip down his arm. On one hand, agreeing to be murdered right here and now is ridiculous. On the other hand... "Will I remember dying?"

"Not if you don't want to. I can bury this in your subconscious."

"Okay." Chanyeol tilts his head back towards the sky. "I'll do it."

The last thing he remembers are the clouds changing shapes, from a curtain of hearts into a field of roses, back and back again. They reach down for him until his vision is eclipsed with white.

Kyungsoo knows he’s meant to stay calm.

He opens his eyes anyway. There’s blood in the grass. That’s what he notices first—unnatural dark spots disturbing his serene meadow. Kyungsoo can’t bring himself to look at the crumpled shadow in the dirt. He knows that isn’t really Chanyeol's body. He knows none of this is real. But the grass around him starts to wilt.

“I can’t feel his heartbeat.” Baekhyun looks up where he’s kneeling in the dirt next to Chanyeol’s shoulder. Blood and dirt are smeared across the front of his suit.

Kyungsoo swallows hard. His voice wobbles. “Did you _have_ to kill him?"

"It's the only real way to know."

"So now we wait?"

“Now we wait.”

Baekhyun settles back on his thighs. His eyes are a little glazed, and maybe Kyungsoo should offer some words of encouragement, or forgiveness, but he can’t. He just can’t. He wants to puke. _Not real, Chanyeol’s fine, not real, just a dream..._

A gentle, crackling whisper alerts Kyungsoo to a new problem. The grass is burning. Specifically with neon blue fire that dances from stem to stalk, bouncing towards them at a terrifying speed. He stands up so fast he makes himself dizzy.

“It’s okay,” Baekhyun says. Kyungsoo turns toward him. The Dreamwalker is half-standing, one hand on Chanyeol’s unmoving chest which is covered in blood oh— “Don’t look,” he adds, but it’s too late.

Kyungsoo braces his hands on his knees. “Fuck. Oh god.”

He feels like he's just been sucker-punched. Seeing Chanyeol like that is the worst moment of his life. Blue fire screeches across his bare feet. He feels nothing but smells thick lavender, like he just lit an expensive candle. Kyungsoo blinks tears and thin smoke from his eyes. He tries to take a deep breath, but his control is slipping. How does he know this isn't real? Hot grief swells like a lump in his throat. There’s only a dark chasm where he once felt happiness. _What if I lost him?_

Dreamspace chaos takes over. Baekhyun stands and wobbles. He shields his eyes from the furious blue light. The sky starts trembling, like air molecules are moving too fast to see colors or lights properly, and the world becomes a blurry kaleidoscope. Kyungsoo loses sight of him and Chanyeol’s body. He falls to his knees. The fire doesn’t hurt, though when he looks down he can see swathes of fabric shedding, black, from his body, and the flames delicately moving over his skin.

Some twisted, sobbing part of him wishes it hurt. Chanyeol must have felt pain before the end. Even if it wasn’t real. Kyungsoo will probably have nightmares about this dream forever. He thinks he hears Baekhyun’s voice shouting, “No time to—for him—have to wake—

But the fire falls away.

Kyungsoo sits up gasping. He’s reaching for Chanyeol beside him before the dream is fully over, but he already knows. Chanyeol is sprawled across the carpet, hair falling delicately over his closed eyes, without moving. There are no echoes of life through the ground below his body. This is reality and he still has no heartbeat.

The classroom is a scene of chaos. Jongdae is bent over Chanyeol with wild eyes and two fingers pressed to his wrist. Across the room, Baekhyun is staggering to his feet and holding his head in one hand. Jongdae is shouting, shrill and angry. “Tell me what the fuck happened. He’s not breathing. You said no one could die in a dream.” He whips around to glare at Kyungsoo. There’s nothing empathetic in his face. “Call an ambulance. Now.”

“Wait.” Baekhyun’s legs buckle. He slides to the floor and sluggishly drags himself to join them. They three form a protective cluster leaning over Chanyeol’s body. “Give him a minute. He can do this.”

"No, he can't, he's dying, you killed him—"

"Thirty seconds."

They continue arguing while Jongdae pulls up an emergency number.

Kyungsoo isn't paying attention. He's half draped over Chanyeol's chest, where he landed when he rolled over. His hands tremble when he traces Chanyeol's jaw. The dream is mismatched and fuzzy in his memory already—there was blue light, lots of it—but he knows deep in his bones that Chanyeol died. He feels stiff with that weight, the trauma of it, even though he hardly remembers. Like a bitter aftertaste. Now it's real. He takes a shuddering breath.

"Wake up," he says. Quietly, then again louder. "Wake up, Chanyeol."

Because this isn't the end. That Kyungsoo knows. A faint yellow glow starts shining beneath Chanyeol's shirt, twinkling like stars behind thick black fabric. It spreads, disappearing beneath his jeans and creeping along the veins of his neck. Soon every inch of his skin glows. The magic is unimaginably beautiful, like nothing from any magician Kyungsoo knows, and he feels like he's witnessing something holy.

Chanyeol takes a breath. Quietly, like a dove taking flight, his heart restarts. He comes back to life.

Baekhyun and Jongdae fall abruptly silent. Chanyeol's eyelashes flutter. Kyungsoo can't help himself, he cradles Chanyeol's face in one hand and coaxes him along. "Wake up," he repeats, voice slow. The words are rising from deep in his chest. Someplace instinctual. He knows Chanyeol needs guidance back to Earth, back to him—from wherever he went. "Wake up, we're here."

Slowly Chanyeol opens his eyes. At first they shine with a backlight of yellow, but he blinks and soft brown returns. "Did it work?"

At first they're silent. Suspended in this impossible moment.

A choked laugh erupts from Jongdae. "Oh my god. Yeah." He looks up, wondrous and confused, eyes shining silver with tears. "It worked, right?"

"It worked." Baekhyun sits back with a sigh. Honestly, Kyungsoo can't even begin to process what just happened.

"You died," he says, stupidly, one hand still gently pressed to Chanyeol's cheek. "Like, really died."

"Sorry." Chanyeol lolls his head towards him.

"How do you feel?"

"Okay." He shrugs. "Kind of a headache." He twists his neck a little to look at Kyungsoo properly, then smiles. "I heard your voice. After the dream, I followed this yellow light, and I heard you saying it's time to wake up, so—"

Kyungsoo's heart absolutely shatters. If he weren't already sitting he would've fallen to the floor. He presses one fist to his lips, trying to keep from crying openly, but Chanyeol is smiling like he didn't just goddamn die on this classroom floor two minutes ago. It's too much. Kyungsoo tips himself forward into Chanyeol's chest and hugs him with both arms scooping tight around his shoulders. He hears the _oof_ noise Chanyeol makes as they collide, but there's no complaint, and warm arms wrap around Kyungsoo's chest in return. Pressing his face to Chanyeol's neck, he takes a deep breath and focuses on what the Earth is singing in heartbeat vibrations: alive, alive, alive.

"You're a Life magician," he mumbles into Chanyeol's skin. "Discipline solved."

Chanyeol laughs a little. "Whoa. Thanks."

"So," Jongdae interjects, still gripping his roommate's hand. "We're never doing that again."

For a moment he forgot they had company. Kyungsoo sits up slowly and rubs his eyes. They're sore from holding back tears for only a minute—but granted, it was the longest minute of his life. He clears his throat and adds, "Yeah, never again."

"Should I go to a hospital or something?" Chanyeol sits up, leaning on Jongdae's shoulder. "Just in case?"

Baekhyun shakes his head. He gingerly stands to retrieve his thermos and drains it. Wiping his mouth, he snaps, "No. No one can know outside this room."

"I have to declare my discipline."

"Life magic is one of the rarest types in the world. You can't tell _anyone_." Baekhyun collapses into a chair. His hands are shaking. "The last magician lived, I dunno, two hundred years ago? And she was enslaved by a corrupt dictator for the last half of her life."

"Oh." Chanyeol's face goes slack. "I didn't know—I've never studied..."

"No one has," Baekhyun shrugs. "I just don't sleep. Lots of time for Wikipedia."

Across the room, Chanyeol's phone rings. It shatters the leftover surreal atmosphere. He tries to stand and answer, but Kyungsoo latches onto his sleeve. "Wait. We have to figure this out. Baekhyun's right."

"But I have to graduate," Chanyeol argues.

He looks to Kyungsoo, but for once Kyungsoo doesn't have any ideas. Theoretically, a Life magician can save anyone from death, bring anyone back. That kind of magic can't go free. Schools will want to dissect him. Governments will want to imprison him. People will want to bribe him, or kidnap him, or... The list is endless. Chanyeol's in danger.

Chanyeol himself is reaching the same conclusion. His face falls and his shoulders slump.

It's Jongdae who stands up, shoves his hands into his jacket pocket, and says, "So, what's our cover story?"

Then it comes to Kyungsoo like a flash. Fire and rebirth. "We can call you a Phoenix magician," he blurts. "A specific type of low-power Fire magician who specializes in burning dead things. Like a crossover with Physical magic."

"Is that a real discipline?" Chanyeol blinks.

"It can be." Baekhyun shrugs. "Why the fuck not. The Dean will believe anything Kyungsoo says."

Relief trickles into the room. Kyungsoo can envision it—presenting the dean with Chanyeol's official discipline, which legally can't be disproved unless he orders an investigation, which he won't, because he trusts his top student. Chanyeol can probably find research to back up the claim, then graduate anonymous and free. It's a perfect plan.

And maybe, just maybe, Kyungsoo can have a second chance. He wants Chanyeol in his life. Specifically on dates. Kissing. Holding hands in the park. Now that tutoring is over, and he knows what it feels like to lose Chanyeol, there's no reason to hold back. He takes a deep breath and banishes those thoughts for now. There will be time later.

Jongdae is retrieving his and Chanyeol's bags. "We should go. You need to rest, just in case, and we can figure out details later. For now, we're all sworn to fucking secrecy, right?"

"Yeah," Chanyeol echoes. "Okay. I need some time to process."

"That's a good idea," Kyungsoo murmurs.

To his surprise, Chanyeol turns and grabs him in a hug. It's a proper, vertical hug this time. Kyungsoo rubs a comforting hand along his back. Chanyeol whispers into his hair, "Thank you."

The door to the Dean's office slams open.

"Oh, sorry," Kyungsoo says, even though he doesn't sound sorry in the slightest. He strolls into the foyer and Chanyeol follows behind, eyes glued to the paper in his hands. The secretary gives them a perplexed look from behind horn-rimmed glasses as they exit.

_Park Chanyeol_

_Official Discipline: Phoenix Magician  
_

"I can't believe he accepted it so easily." Chanyeol almost runs into the wall as they turn a corner into the foyer. He looks up, embarassed.

Something like a smirk crosses Kyungsoo's face. He shoves open the double doors to the front office. Evening light sprays across the wooden tiles and they step, victorious, into the sunset. Chanyeol takes a deep breath. Autumn has never tasted so sweet. 

"Of course he did." A fat gray moth descends from one of the trees and Kyungsoo swats it away. "The Dean is kind of an idiot."

"He was right about assigning you, though."

"Hah. Thanks."

Chanyeol stops walking abruptly. He looks at the wandering throngs of students, headed home after a long day of classes. Shadows thicken on the grass. Tonight feels melancholy, like an ending. He should be celebrating and planning his future. Instead he stares blankly at the students passing by, suddenly and inexplicably jealous.

They never have to worry if their magic is disturbing the balance between life and death. Chanyeol hasn't stopped thinking about it—how he brought two people back from the dead. Himself and Kyungsoo. He doesn't regret it—he likes being alive, thanks very much—but it feels like he broke a rule and he's waiting for the metaphorical ruler to smack down on his hands.

What does he do now?

Kyungsoo's warm hand slides into his. "What are you thinking about?"

"I don't know where to go from here," Chanyeol admits. "After graduation. I should never use my magic again, right?"

"That's probably safer." Kyungsoo turns toward the distant river, just barely visible between the trees. His face is calm, skin warm from the golden sky. "For right now, though, I can show you someplace to go."

"If you say white water rafting..."

He smiles. "No."

"Our tutoring is over. You don't have to—"

"I want to." Kyungsoo turns to him fully and grips his hand harder. "Date, actually. If you're still interested."

For a second Chanyeol thinks his heart stops again. He can't have heard those words right. But they're alone on the sidewalk, and the breeze is tickling his hair, and Kyungsoo is looking up at him with total sincerity. It's better than any dream.

"Are you kidding," he states, because he has foot-in-mouth syndrome. "Really? Even after..."

"Yeah. I wanted to before, I just didn't want to get in trouble."

"You?" Chanyeol crosses his arms over his chest. "Afraid of breaking the rules? I don't believe it."

Kyungsoo's eyes widen. "One time, jeez. I didn't want to be expelled!" He jabs a finger at the paper in Chanyeol's hands. "I have to graduate too!"

But they're both laughing a little. Kyungsoo interlaces their fingers and adds, "Do you want to get ice cream and walk along the river? Pretty non-threatening."

Shit, he's blushing. Chanyeol nods. He shakes his hair into his face a little to hide his pink cheeks. It's a moot point when Kyungsoo reaches up to push his hair away and lets his fingertips linger on his cheek, jaw, neck...

"Ice cream sounds great," Chanyeol blurts. Before he accidentally sets his shoes on fire.

Kyungsoo smiles. "Let's go."


End file.
